Cry not for me
by Tinne
Summary: Spoilers from book 5!!!!!!!!!! How is Harry supposed to handle the events that happened? Stand alone piece, finished.


Warning: This contains spoilers for book 5.  
  
Disclaimer: the characters are not mine, but Rowlings. Neither am I making money from this.  
  
A.N.: This is just a short piece about Harry, happening after book 5. The poem is mine.  
  
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Cry not for me  
  
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Harry was at home, lying on his bed. His room was still empty with an exception for some clothes and his school stuff that he was allowed to keep in his room this year. Uncle Vernon and aunt Petunia had taken the threat seriously. So seriously that he didn't have to do any chores. But then again, Mad-eye Moody had made a frightening impression on them.  
  
He had been very grateful that they would do something like this for him. It had really touched him to see them stand up for him. He was grateful, really, but now he had too much time to think. Normally he would be so busy with chores that he didn't have time to think.  
  
He didn't have to do chores this time. He even begged his aunt so he could do some chores, but she flat-out refused, being too terrified to have to face that mob again. Instead she had told him to write that letter that his friends expected every 3 days. So he fatefully wrote that letter. He wrote about how bored he was, that there was nothing to do around here. His friends would always react the same. Ron would write how sorry he was and that he would try to let him come over as soon as possible. Hermione admonished him to do his homework. That would keep him busy.  
  
But when Harry wrote that he had already finished his homework, Hermione had no answer to give him.  
  
He really had finished all his homework. Heck, he even made extra credit assignments on every subject he took! For once he was sure he wasn't going to get a bad grade in potions. For once he had gotten interested in Magical History.  
  
He truly had too much time to think. And his thoughts were not of the fluffy happy pink kind, but the dark pessimistic kind. He still felt guilty for Cedric's death, his friends hadn't helped him with that, although they had tried to convince that it wasn't his fault. Maybe it wasn't his fault, but he still felt guilty. And then there was Sirius. He died too. And this was his fault. No doubt about it. If he hadn't walked into that trap, then Sirius didn't had to save him. Then Sirius wouldn't have died. . .  
  
He was also so angry and sad and disappointed. Dumbledore had kept secrets from him when he shouldn't have, all in name for his happiness. Well, guess what, Dumbledore. He never was happy. Not really. How could he? His parents were murdered, he became THE target of the Dark Lord, everybody stared at him and he was supposed to be the only one who could stop Voldemort! He had never asked for this, but people just didn't seem to understand this. And sadly but true, not even his friends seemed to really understand.  
  
His life was in danger, constantly. He had no more refuge from the fear that held his claws in his heart. He had no place to run, no place to hide. His emotions always caught up with him.  
  
But he was going to solve that problem.  
  
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Dumbledore sat in his office, his eyes filled with tears. He was waiting until the rest came, so he could tell them. He could not help but feel that he had failed.  
  
Suddenly the doors opened. Everybody had arrived and waited for Dumbledore to tell them why he had called them to his office.  
  
Dumbledore looked up, still there were tears in his eyes. He tried to tell them, but he could not. He had loved him as a grandson, but it hadn't been enough. He should have known, he should have done something, but now it was too late.  
  
He tried to tell them, but could not, so he merely showed the letter:  
  
How was I supposed to handle this? How was I to cope?  
  
But don't worry. Everything will be okay now. I promise.  
  
Cry not for me when I am gone  
  
For now I know where I belong  
  
My spirit soars into the sky  
  
No longer wondering about the why  
  
My soul is blessed and bless my soul  
  
No longer divided I feel whole  
  
I now can rest into the night  
  
With insight what is wrong and right  
  
But know my death will be the day  
  
That I have found my own way  
  
Best wishes  
  
H. J. Potter  
  
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